


Dove Like Hands

by nutella_junkie23



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Clown comes back, Friendzoning(mentioned), Horror, M/M, Richie is a soft lad, hand holding, size difference (non sexual??), slight fluff but not really, they do kiss just a little bit, two shot???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-13 15:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14114886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutella_junkie23/pseuds/nutella_junkie23
Summary: Richie Tozier remembers the ill-fated night when he and Bill were alone together in the House where it Happened, where Bill is recovering from a messy rejection and Richie is just trying to figure out the purpose of their little trip.Then Pennywise shows up and fucks shit up.





	1. Neibolt

He doesn't even remember all the details that clearly, but he did remember how it felt when he held Bill's hand for the first time.

How Richie's cheeks warmed when they were alone together. How he craved for that human touch again. 

Sometimes, Richie swore he felt tingles on his hand from that night. And he swore that those tingles were related quite closely to his heartbeat. He reddened everytime he felt them, not wanting to think about Bill that way, but being unable to feel anything other than the warm and inviting feeling of being protected. 

Oh, how he hated it. He shied away from it. He didn't like looking weak in front of them, screeching for help in the pitch black dark of the night and swimming around in that same darkness for a hand to hold. He was the crack up, the cut up, the ha-ha hillarious guy with voices that weren't really all that great or amusing but he was working on them. 

Richie was not the sensitive, scaredy cat with thick glasses and buck teeth. Anything but that. 

Whenever he would think about it, he'd try his hardest to ignore the butterflies in his stomach and the need to feel that close with Bill again. He'd try and think of something funny or practice a voice.

It would work for a fraction of a millisecond, and then the butterflies would push and pull, and suddenly the red emerges from his chest and spreads around his pale face. You would think that Bill would feel this, as he was around 2 inches shorter than Richie at this point. He would feel so desperate for the touch, for the hold of Richie's hand right?

No. At least, no in Richie's mind. He had no idea what Bill was thinking. What did it matter, anyways? 

But there was no denying that he wanted Bill in his arms and wanted Bill's hand to hold again. God forbid, he didn't want to relive the experience. 

No, he just wanted to relive that particular moment again. One more, and then it's out of his system, right? Forever. He'll just remember it one more time, and then forget about it. In the cold of his bed room, he shook slightly underneath the covers as he removed his glasses, carefully wiping the fog from them.

(A few weeks ago)

Bill and Richie had split off from the Loser club to do a bit of clean-up in the same house where it happened. Where it all went down. 

Since Pennywise was gone, there was no need to be afraid of what jumps in the dark or moans in the night. “Rich, yuh-you-you got the stuh-stuh-stuff?”

“Yes, sir!” Richie saluted, dropping his arm to the side afterward. “Got the backpack, snack-packs, brooms, dustpans all in line sir!”

“Oh-oh-oh okay. Enough with th-tha-that.” Bill wasn't really in the mood for jokes that evening. He had just been let down easy by Beverly when she rejected the poem he wrote specifically for her, and the sketch he made of her. She gave him the F word. The word that no one wishes to be right after rejection. “We-we-weuh-we're only here for one pur-pur-”

“I know, Porky.” Richie snorted, nudging Bill in the side. “We're here to clean up around the place....for some reason? Why can't we just leave it behind-”

“Because I wah-wan-want to clean it up, Trashmouth.” Bill snapped. Richie flinched back a little from the snap, but he bounced back like a rubber ball to the wall.

“Someone's in a mood this evening.” Richie commented, using a Fancy Upperclassman voice. “Care to tell Papa Richie what's the matter?” Now he used the Mama Bear voice.

Bill shook his head from side to side. “Duh-duh-don't call yourself that.” 

Richie didn't let up. “Aww, c'mon Billy Bear. My little pumpkin..” When he said this, he actually meant it. It was a blessing to be able to use the voices. 

“Luh-luh-lay off, Richie. Let's juh-juh-just do this and go ho-ho-home.” Bill got up to the door, turned the door knob to the side, and pushed it open. The musk of wood and faint undertones of blood attack his nostrills. Good thing he wasn't sensitive to that. “After yuh-you.”

Richie walked through, dragging the broom stick behind him. “Man, we're out here at like, 11. We're usually asleep by this time.” He tossed his backpack off, unzipping it and removing the liquid cleaning solutions. 

“Yeah, we're such ruh-ruh-rebels.” 

Richie heard and picked up on the faraway sound off Bill's voice. “Bill, c'mon. You've been moody all day. What's the matter?” He then cracked a smirk. “You can tell Santa anything.”

“You could never buh-be Suh-suh-suh-santa, Richie.” Bill didn't look at Richie, and instead focused on a splatter of red on the walls. “Please. Nuh-nuh-none of your buh-buh-bullshit tonight, okay?”

It hurt him, so much inside, that Bill was hurting and wasn't letting on. “Bill,” He said, a little softer, wanting to suddenly attack Bill with hugs and kisses until his lips were red and his arms melded with his body. 

“Pass me the-the-the broom.”

He handed it to him. Best not to push, he thought. With a sigh, Richie began to section off and do his own cleaning on the mirrors of the house, which used to be home to the missing posters of himself and the others. He sighed, reminding himself that that was a summer ago, and that it's all over.

The sweeping sounds across the boards of the house were really relaxing. But the way the boards were being swept weren't. Bill was sweeping with anger in his eyes and dullness in his overall expression. He looked almost scary, sweeping away at the floor. 

Richie whined in his throat, unable to handle the awkward tension between them both. The tension in the air was so thick, one could cut it with a knife. He had to say something, anything. Anything funny. “Hey, remember that time we hit Henry in the face with a rock and he stumbled backwards, looking all helpless like a doe eyed deer?”

Bill's back was turned to him as he swept. There was a small smile forming.

“And that time where we were underneath the sewers and Eddie was flipping his shit to some “greywater”?”

Was it the fact that he said “shit” when talking about sewers that made Bill actually smile, or was it that fact that Richie was attempting to cheer him up when he was feeling down? 

“Remember when we-” 

Something crashed in the other room. Something that made Richie stop talking immediately for once. Something that made Bill yelp quietly. “What was that?” Bill asked in a hushed whisper.

“Nothing, Big Bill.” Richie tried to tell himself and Bill. “Remember, we ended that clown.”

“But, that sounded like-” The same sound happened. Even worse than the last time. It sounded like whatever crashed and fell last time was thrown at something or someone. “Ruh-ruh-richie, don't panic.” Bill could hear Richie's stunted breaths, and could see his shadowy figure in the night begin to shake and tremble. “Don't panic, Ruh-ruh-richie.”

“How can I not panic?” Richie trembled, his heart pounding, his blood racing. He felt faint, dizzy and woozy all at the same time. “Bill, we gotta get out of here-”

“Richie,”

“I knew this was a bad idea...coming out here in the middle of the night with all of the others in their houses sleeping-”

“Richie-”

“Bill, I don't wanna go through all that-”

“Richie!” Bill finally shouted over him, putting Richie's freak-out level at a minimum. “Duh-duh-do you want me to go and check it ou-ou-out?”

“No!” Richie was about to finish it with “Are you crazy? Whatever's in there could take you away from me!” but chose to keep silent there.

“Then whu-whu-what do you want me to do about it, Rich?”

“We should probably go together, Bill....” Richie said, trying to regain a sliver of his original, bouncy and carefree attitude.

“Duh-duh-don't be afraid, Richie.” Bill breathed, trying to mask his fear but failing. Someone had to be the leader of the situation. “I'm right here.”

“I think we already established this.”

“Let's go.” Bill didn't waste anymore time. He walked down the hall, turning around often to see if Richie was behind him. 

The door to what seemed like the kitchen was wide open, and all the cupboards were open as well. Plates were rolling out on their sides, crashing and falling and from the corner of Bill's eye, he could see something small cowering away in the corner, plate shards all around it. He gulped, turning around to see if Richie was behind him. 

He was. “What do you see, Bill?”

“Plates....and-and-and-and a thing in the corner of the kuh-kuh-kitchen.” He whispered, not wanting that thing to look at him. Not wanting to be afraid.

“Well, you sold me, Big Bill. We're getting out of here now.”

Bill's eyes widened immediately and he pulled on Richie's shirt, pulling him back towards him. “No, Rich. We're  
nuh-nuh-not going back.”

“Okay, well then I'll just see myself out.” Inside of Richie's mind, he was telling himself to stay with Bill, but he needed to leave, or else Bill will see a different side of him. “Have a good night.”

“Good night,” a voice croaked from inside the kitchen, sounding like nails on chalkboard and the muted, ill fated cries of a bird falling from it's nest with a broken wing. 

Bill was frozen, chalky white with fright. But suddenly, that frozen fear shifted into anger. “I thought we got rid of you, you-you-you-you son of a bitch!”

Richie would be lying if he said he didn't slightly enjoy that little curse that spilled from Bill's throat. 

“Came back for muh-muh-more, huh?” 

“Bill, a broomstick isn't gonna help against a thing-”

Before either of them knew it, the thing quickly got up on fours and ran towards them at a fast tempo. Each foot it had was abnormally turned and twisted. It's eyes were changing color and size. 

“I can taste the fear from here I can taste the fear from here I can taste-” The thing chanted as both boys ran down the hall. Once they were at the end of the hall, Bill climbed over the stair railing and ran as fast as he could up the creaky stairs that were threatening to give out underneath him. He breathed, gasping for breath, once his foot slipped on one of the steps. He grasped for the railing in the cold night, careful not to get splinters. “Richie! Wh-wh-wh-where are yuh-yuh-you?! Do you hear me?”

Richie had heard him, but was too busy finding his glasses. Velma Dinkley style. “I can't find my glasses, Bill!”

“Fuh-fuh-fuh-ck your glasses, Rich!”

“Bill, I can't see without my- HOLY SHIT!” Bill didn't even know Richie's voice could go that high, with that much vibrato. Since it was dark, Bill couldn't really see that well what was going on. He should have turned on the lights...

But he could see, kind of, that Richie was face-to-face with the thing. From the crunching noises it was making, it seemingly ate his glasses. Purposefully, so that he couldn't see in the night. So he would be it's dinner. “Good night,” It repeated, opening it's mouth, ready to pounce on Richie. 

But Richie didn't wait for Bill to throw a book or whatever heroic thing Bill was fixing to do. He sprayed the disinfectant on the monster and watched it cower away, little spots exploding and sizzling on its slimy skin. 

“Let's go to the buh-buh-buh-bedroom, Richie!”

“Take me out to dinner first-”

“Not the time!” Bill shouted, and Richie soon followed close behind him up the stairs and across the hall. “Come on, come on, Richie!”

“I'm trying! But I feel like-”

An inhumane sound was produced downstairs. “Bill, I think It's here. I think-”

“No time for explanations. Just get into the-the-the-the-” There was no way in hell Bill was finishing that sentence. He took just a little bit too long to do so. But Richie got the ticket, and followed him inside of the room, locking the door. 

The creature pounded and thumped up the stairs, ready to end them. It's slimy little fingers and hands were being replaced with the plaster of the gloves, as well as fuzzy red-orange buttons beginning on it's torso.

“Bill, we gotta get out of here.”

“Nuh-nuh-no way, Rich. We gotta stuh-stuh-stay.”

“We're obviously here for a reason, right, Bill? What was that reason? Because whatever it was-”

A loud, thunderous and blood curdling pound hit the front of the door. Immediately, Richie felt for Bill's hand in the dark, grabbed it, and held on tightly. Bill grabbed back, squeezing tightly. Their arms rubbed up against each other, their breaths hard and their hearts racing. 

“Richie,” Bill breathed, holding onto his hand. “Richie....”

From the moonlight outside and the slight dimness of the bedroom, Bill never realized how utterly adorable and attractive Richie looked without the glasses. How his hair curled this way and flipped the other way. His jawline. His pale, snow white skin. Those cinnamon dotted freckles.

His soft, pink lips. For a moment, just taking in all of Richie's looks made him forget the pain of Beverly friendzoning him, rejecting his heart and soul. For he never realized the other friend, the other loser, had equal importance in his life like Beverly.

Bill's fingers interlocked with Richie. “It's guh-guh-gonna be okay, Richie...” He felt Richie's arm tug around his waist, pulling him closer. “Wuh-wuh-we're okay, Rich...”

Bill could hear how Richie's heart thundered in his chest. And even more, he could feel how warm and soft he was. How good he smelled, and how silent and stoic he was being. 

Another loud pound, and another frightened startled noise from them both. “Good night, boys!” Now the voice sounded motherly, and sickly sweet. Nails scratched at the door, and hammer like pounding increased.

Richie held Bill's hand tighter, and Bill squeezed back. “Richie, yuh-yuh-you're scaring me. Say suh-suh-suh-something.”

He continued squeezing Bill's hand, this time, shaking all over. 

The doorknob turned to the side and unlocked with a magic click. When the door opened, there was Pennywise. Both of their worst fears. He had cracks all about his skull, his eye split open revealing black, oozing liquid. His fangs sharp and wild, his tongue forked in the middle. 

“How about it, boys?” Pennywise gurgled, his throat destroyed from their beat-down of him last summer. “Our little anniversary? It's been one year since last summer together!” His smile split down the middle, torn flesh at either side. “I think we should do something fun to celebrate. What say you, William? Richard?”

Richie wanted to scream. That's why he wasn't talking. 

“Oh, it will be fun!” Pennywise laughed, some black liquid staining the corner of his lip. “We'll do exactly what you children did to me, but instead of me being hurt, it will be you both! And then we can have champagne served out of your spleen, or maybe your eye sockets? Either way wouldn't hurt. At least, it wouldn't hurt me....” 

Richie looked like he was gonna faint. 

“Richie, Richie, Luh-luh-look at me, Richie-”

Richie was shaking terribly. Terribly. Pennywise still stared at them, his yellow eyes glaring into the night. 

“Richie, Richie-”

But Richie was staring at Pennywise. Directly at him. In fact, besides his hand being held, and that feeling of the unrequited romance becoming something real, all he could see in the room was Pennywise.

“I think it'd be fun, Richie.” Pennywise said, grinning an awful grin that looked like a mixture of shit-eating and playful pouting. “What say you?”


	2. The Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Thank you guys so much for the comments! Please enjoy the last part of Dove Like Hands! Don't be shy either to leave constructive criticism! ^^ ily!  
> \---  
> Bill and Richie face off against the clown and unravel each other's feelings towards one another.

Neither Richie or Bill could respond before Pennywise lunged at them, baring his razor sharp fangs and his bavarian knife like claws.    
  
“Bill, Go!” Richie finally said, letting go of his hand and shoving him to the left side of the room. Around this point, usually the hero would pick up a weapon, get into battle ready stance, and take the monster head on. Richie? He decided to be smart about this and he followed behind Bill. “Go, go!”   
  
Pennywise swiped at Bill’s flannel, nearly tearing the fabric. He uttered a silent scream when he felt the razor sharp claws that close to his back, that close to being near his skin. “It’s time to float, Billy and Richie…” Pennywise muttered,  staring at them as they ran outside of the bedroom. The cracks along Pennywise’s face were widening, and more viscous thick black fluid oozed from the cuts and the cracks. He was weakening, definitely. But if he could just taste Bill, or taste Richie, then he might be able to regain himself back to normal. Perhaps he would be able to be as springly and as terrifying as he once was again. 

 

In the hallway, Bill tried his best not to scream and to save all of his lung energy for breathing as he darted down the hall. “Richie, w-w-wuh-wuh-we’re getting out of heh-huh-here.”   
  
“And thank God we are! Why did we even come?!” Richie ran into an open wooden door, stumbled back, and fell on his butt. He hissed, groaning. “Shit!”

  
Bill didn’t answer Richie’s question, and instead helped him up. “C-c-cuh-cuh-come on, we gotta g-g-g-get out-”   
  
The lights that were on in the hallways began to flicker. Richie looked up, breathing harsh and fast. “No shit, Bill…” The bruise on his forehead was beginning to become as noticeable as a hickey.    
  
Without a second thought, Bill grabbed Richie’s hand again, ignored the floating feeling it gave him when he did, and resumed running down the hall. It was becoming dark, and since Richie’s glasses had already been eaten and devoured, saying that Richie’s vision had been bad was an understatement. “Fuh-fuh-follow me downstairs, right now.”

  
  


“What else did you think I was gonna do, genius? Stay and get eaten?” Richie huffed, his breathing becoming increasingly erratic the more they ran.    
  
Pennywise had to stop for a little bit, however. From his point of view, the boys were fast disappearing down the hall, curving and turning to the right where the stairs were. He huffed, doubling over on his knee caps. The cracks on his forehead were beginning to curve over in large flaps, revealing something oil-sheen black. Something terrifying underneath. Pennywise was weakening even more, it seemed. He had to do something drastic, before he would collapse and fall over, falling into a deep, dark slumber for years and years upon end. 

  
Quickly, he phased into a cream colored wall and disappeared in a second.

  
In the midst of getting downstairs, Richie’s ankle twisted. He uttered a tight yelp, and groaned, leaning into Bill for support. Bill knew his buddy’s ankle twisted by that sandwich press against his back, and decided to slow down on the running to help ebb away the pain.   
  
They were now on the main floor. Since they couldn’t hear Pennywise’s loud, clomping foot steps any longer behind them, they decided to pause and rest for a moment. Richie’s lower lip was brought frequently in between his front teeth and bottom, heavy sighs leaving the cracks. He was gonna cry. He could feel the lump in his throat and the warm tears enveloping his eyes. But he wanted to stay strong. He wasn’t, as he would say, a  _ pansy.  _

__   
“Yuh-yuh-you want to know whuh-whuh-why we-we- came here, Rich?” Bill muttered low, letting go of his hand.    
  
“Yeah, I think now would be the best time as any to tell me.” Richie paused, his eyebrows furrowing, knitting into something deep and serious. “Seeing how we pretty much came here for no reason whatsoever. Only probably to risk our lives yet again when we should have just let alone.” 

  
Bill flinched at Richie’s sudden mean tone. Maybe he shouldn’t really tell him now. Judging by the way Richie glared off to the side, perhaps Richie had some time to reflect on what he said. “Richie….wuh-we-we came here buh-buh-because….” he sighed deeply. “I nuh-nuh-needed some tuh-tuh-time away fruh-fruh-from the Losers for a bit.”    
  
Richie’s right hand rubbed tiny, soft circles into his injured ankle. He still didn’t look at Bill. “Why?” His tone wasn’t as harsh and jarring as before. 

 

“I got re-re-ruh-ruh-jected euh-euh-earlier tuh-tuh-tuh-day. By Buh-buh-beverly. It ruh-ruh-really hurt my fuh-fuh-feelings.”    
  
“It still doesn’t add up Bill. Why would we come here, the house where pretty much everything happened…..just so you could get your mind off of Beverly?” Richie gave him a sideways glance, still anxiously bouncing his legs as they sat on the steps.    
  
Now Bill really didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know why he decided that this would be a great idea. Maybe there was a reason before he set out to Neibolt street with Richie in tow. Hours before, he had some spaghetti and meatballs that his mother made, and he sat in silence while his parents spoke about a possible new addition to the family. Maybe there was an idea to come to the house to get his mind of Beverly by cleaning it up.

  
But that idea, or reason, didn’t strike him at all.  This really was pointless, wasn't it?

  
Before Bill could answer, Richie started talking again. “Bill, you know we’re friends, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Alright. And you know that you can tell me literally anything in the world and I will do whatever I can to make you feel better?”   
  


“Yeah.” But Bill didn’t need to feel better that much, right? All Beverly said was while she didn’t love him, she considered him a real good friend. That was good enough, right?    
  
“We didn’t need to come to this house, Bill. You should have just come to my house and we could talk a little…..instead of cleaning up an old house.” Richie was now looking at him, intense brown eyes looking directly into Bill’s serene eyes. He swallowed once or twice. “Bill, I love you so much that I would have spent money I didn’t have just to make you happy, and-”   
  
“What did you say?”   
  
“I said I would have spent money I didn’t have just to-”   
  
“Buh-before that…”    
  
Richie back tracked his words carefully in his mind, then blushed a dark red in the darkness of the night. Jesus, it had to have been exactly 12 o clock by now, right? “I didn’t say anything before that.”    
  
Bill found Richie’s left hand in the pale darkness of the house and held it, squeezing it tightly. “Richie, you love me? Luh-luh-like ruh-ruh-really love me?” Bill lightly blushed. His hand felt so warm. “Richie, I’m so happy…..”   
  
Richie squeezed back, now looking at Bill. There was no need to hide his feelings anymore.“I guess I do love you. Hell, I loved you when we were younger. It’s impossible not to love you.” His heart pounded deep in his chest, and he felt faint, just admitting all this to Bill. “Bill, can I…..can I….”   
  
“Whuh-what is it?”   
  
“Kiss you?”    
  
Bill was shocked, but not shocked enough to let go of Richie’s hand. “You want tuh-tuh-tuh kuh-kuh-kiss me now? Buh-but….it’s….too...sudden…”   
  
“Not to me it isn’t.” Richie bit his lower lip, stopping himself from just planting his lips on Bill. “I’ve loved you longer than words can say. And I really want to prove it to you.” He paused, then laughed softly to himself. A very un-Richie like laughter. “Jesus, I sound like a rom-com, don’t I? Sound like Patrick Swayze.”   
  
“A little..” Bill admitted, scooching closer to Richie’s beautiful, striking face. “Ruh-ruh-richie...are you sure yuh-yuh-you wanna kuh-kuh-kiss now? I muh-muh-mean there’s a clu-clah-”   
  
“Yes.” Richie answered. With a smile, Bill moved closer to Richie’s face and Richie moved closer to his, planting a soft and slow kiss on his lips. Somehow that kiss was like taking an Advil, because that twisting and sharp pain Richie had felt in his ankle was beginning to ebb. He almost forgot he even had a twisted ankle. All he could focus on was kissing Bill on the lips, and running his fingers through the fibers and fabrics of his shirt.    
  
Bill used this time to run his fingers through Richie’s dark mane of curls, pulling places he’s always wanted to. When they needed time to breathe, Richie pulled away first, and sighed heavily. But he didn’t pause to talk about the weather or how Bill’s eyes resembled the dark weather outside, or how Bill smelled, or how his lips tasted, because that didn’t matter. Instead, his fingers unbuttoned the buttons on his flannel just a bit to expose more of his neck and collarbone, and once the pale skin was exposed, Richie began the process of leaving a hickey there, just so Beverly would know what she missed out on. Just so Beverly would know that Bill was Richie’s, and vice versa.

  
Bill gasped a little at the sensation. “Ooh…Richie…” He breathed as Richie’s warm mouth sucked and nibbled at his neck. “Ahhh….Ruh-ruh-richie….cuh-cuh-calm duh-duh-down a little….”

 

Richie’s dark curls brushed against Bill’s pale skin as he turned his head to look up at him. “What? What do you mean?” His lips were raw, wanting Bill’s neck again.

 

Bill chuckled a little. Somehow, before they even realized what happened, Bill was underneath Richie, and Richie was on top of him. How they went from sitting on the staircase to Bill being sprawled out on them was beyond him.

  
When Richie realized this, he laughed a little. “Ah, yeah. Maybe I’m a little too forward…” His breath was still hot and warm on Bill’s sensitive skin, so it wasn’t Bill’s fault that his hips jerked up towards Richie’s crotch in response to that. “Shit, Bill!” He gasped. “Shit….” He moaned a little from that. 

 

“Suh-suh-suh-sorry..” Bill giggled, nervously. They clearly weren’t ready for the real thing, and it seemed like Richie wanted to do it, right there, right then. But it just didn’t feel right. Of course, Bill knew he should have shrugged his flannel off, unzipped his jeans, and let Richie take him on the staircase. But there were two reasons he didn’t do that. Number one; they needed to let their love grow a little more and for the need and desire to build up over time.

 

Two; he sensed something.  “Ruh-ruh-richie...guh-guh-get off.”   
  
Before Richie could ask why, an inhumane screech echoed in the hall. Claws dug deep into the floorboards. “Times up, Bill and Richie!” The voice was not easy on the ears. It sounded like Pennywise was communicating in a radio, and the radio had terrible reception. “Times up! It’s time to float! Time for me to feast!”    
  
Bill pushed Richie off of him roughly when he didn’t move, and got up from the staircase. He then looked around him to search for a weapon of some sort, and saw the wooden railing of the staircase tilting to the side, as if it wanted to fall off. With determination in his eyes, he ripped the railing right off the staircase, and gripped tightly. Tiny splinters were daring to puncture Bill’s hand, and if they did, he didn’t give a fuck. “Not today, fuckface!” He grunted, and with a harsh swing to the right, he struck Pennywise’s head clean off of his head.

  
Fresh black oil spewed from the tiny opening that was Pennywise’s neck. “What the fuck, Bill!? What the FUCK!?” Richie screamed, watching Pennywise’s head trot and roll down, viscous fluid trailing behind it.    
  
“Get out now, Richie! Go!” 

  
“Not without you! We’re a thing now!” Richie didn’t really truly know if they were a thing, however. But that kiss and the still visible slight hickey on Bill’s neck spoke volumes about what they would be.    
  
Without saying another word, Bill and Richie scurried from the last few steps of the staircase and fled the Neibolt house. Pennywise’s head was still rolling back and forth on the floorboards, and his lower body was becoming drenched with the oily substance. He likely wouldn’t wake up again until years to come, and he knew it.    
  
\--

They biked all the way to Bill’s house when it was 10 til 1.  

  
When they got up to it, Richie pulled on the brakes of his bike and hopped off. Perhaps he needed a new size, as he was getting older. But that didn’t matter. He watched Bill get off of Silver, and smiled a soft, yet striking grin. “So, you feeling better, Big Bill?”   
  
“Muh-muh-much better…” Bill’s voice didn’t sound as far away anymore. “Richie, I’m suh-suh-so gluh-gluh-glad that you cuh-cuh-came.”    
  
“Me too. I’m so glad that you’ll be mine.” Richie walked up to the smaller boy and hugged him tightly. “Goddamn, I love you so much.”   
  
“I love you too, Richie.”   
  
“What, no stuttering, Big Bill?”   
  
“I guh-guh-guess I duh-don’t stutter whuh-whuh-when I’m absolutely sure about something…” He shrugged, tilting his head up to kiss him on the lips. “I gotta go, now.”   
  
Richie hugged him one more time before saying “Me too.”   
  
“I’ll see you tuh-tuh-tuh-tomorrow, at thuh-thuh-thuh club-cluh-cliff with the others.”   
  
“You won’t be awkward around Beverly, Big Bill?” Richie let him go, the scent of warm vanilla staying on the fabric of his clothes. 

 

“No way. I got someone better. After all...wuh-wuh-we’re juh-juh-just good friends now.” A soft smile from Bill. He yawned soon after that, then made his way to the backyard, where he would climb up to his window and sneak back into bed.    
  
After seeing the backyard door close, Richie went on his way back home. He was overjoyed that Bill wanted to be his. But he couldn’t help but feel like Pennywise wasn’t done. Like Pennywise was gonna come back soon. Perhaps he would.    
  
But when kissing Bill’s swan feather soft lips, and holding his dove like hands, knowing that those two things will be a reality forever, Pennywise didn’t seem like a bother anymore. Bill and Richie, and of course the rest of the losers, would take him down. Together.

 

(Present time)   
  
The butterflies were gone. Thinking of Bill this way made Richie feel ten times better. It didn’t matter that his mother was angry with him once again for losing his glasses, or how his father didn’t care much when he had to shell out more money for the glasses. It didn’t matter that the following day, Beverly was obviously jealous and wanted Bill’s attention again.    
  
None of that mattered. A few weeks ago, Richie and Bill became an item. He’s never letting go of that.

He gripped the hand that held Bill's once or twice, kissed the palm, and closed his eyes, drifting off into sleep.

  
  



End file.
